A nightmare road to the truth
by Oliver Grey
Summary: At the end of 2004 movie, Christine stays with the Phantom but a little problem may separate them for good. This will be a 2 shot story... actually a 3 shot.
1. Chapter 1

I would like to thank my beta "**Pointless Nostalgic**" for the patience and all the work she put in making my writing better. **Thank you** :) .

1.

Something woke me up rather harshly, my heartbeat ringing in my head, deafening all other sounds. God, my brain was going to explode any minute now. I could see the lonely candle only as a blurred shape, the headache skewing my vision. There was tossing and whirling beside me, bringing weird images of a dieing fish to the front. I didn't have to look to know what had happen. Again.

A deep sigh escaped my lungs when I lay back down in the bed. There was a source of new pain to the right, and I felt its dulled presence with every breath coming in. I had to wake her up now, but it had proven useless over time. I let another sigh out as my body began to slacken off. Sometimes she would sleep restlessly, hitting me and kicking me like tonight. Other nights she would suddenly cry out his name, startling both of us, without ever remembering what she had dreamt of. She kept crying in her sleep every other night, leaving me speechless and motionless, unable to calm myself to slumber. During those first nights I tried to hold her, to sing to her, and whenever she was awake she would accept it and relax a bit. The moment she would fall a sleep, she would try to get away from me. I knew what it meant but didn't allow myself to see it. Joy, blind, flawless joy ruled my mind then, making me believe it would all come to pass.

Night after night nothing changed, and as she grew even more restless, I decided to leave the damned bed entirely to her. I tried to sleep in the main room pretending I was working on something new. My eyes were itching, staring at the empty sheet until they began to close by themselves. One endless week had passed and I didn't have a will to play at all - I only wanted to sleep. There was silence as I crawled behind the instrument and drifted away. Too soon I was brought back by her voice, calling for her angel. She sounded distant and terrified and I simply couldn't leave her in such a state.

When I found her, she was wandering away from the cave, searching for me with a single unlit candle in her hand. Christine was bare-footed and too lightly clothed for the underground cold. I made the observations dryly, my mind in stupor .

"Christine..."

No other words came to me when I realized how tired and unhappy she looked. Christine turned to my voice and her face lit up for a second. My girl. She was searching for my eyes in vain, for the darkness was way too thick for her to see. A blinded child of light. Her pale skin was somewhat glowing to my sight. I took her hand and pulled her back towards my home.

"I thought you left me."

Stupid girl.

"That is very unlikely to happen, Christine. A bad dream again?"

"Aham."

She was shivering and I put my coat on her back. I had to try again.

"What was it about?"

"Nothing really, I just woke up so scared. I couldn't find you..."

"And you don't remember what frightened you?"

We were walking side by side and I saw her shake her head. Her gesture revealed such a desperation that my dulled heart sank. I couldn't suppress a sigh and she looked at me. Her eyes were feverish, no light in them. I was killing the poor girl.

When we got to my bedroom it was four o'clock in the morning already.

Around six Christine kicked me out of bed and I went to my business, leaving her down alone for a couple of hours. In that little time away from her, I needed to assure myself I was still in control of the situation. To remind myself why I was doing this, that I had the right to do it. I had won. Christine was mine and I was responsible to find a way out of this endless nightmare.

I tried everything I could imagine. I've been in a dead sleep after great amounts of wine several times, so I gave it a try. Drinking spirits didn't help at all, but made her sick. I read to her before sleep, I gave her warm soup, I sang to her, of course, I played. All was useless. She would easy for an hour or two, and then it would start anew. I even tried to keep her awake, to exhaust her completely, but with no luck. Dark circles were getting darker and she became distracted, her soul weak.

Every night I began outside the bedroom, we ended searching for each other in the dark around my home. Every time Christine would calm at my presence only to start fighting me again in her sleep. We quit most of our daytime activities, for she had no strength to sing and I had no desire to play. She looked drained of life during days, but the force she would often apply on me at night made a contradiction I was unable to comprehend. I was paying little to no attention to goings on at the opera. If it was not for the food, I would prefer to never venture outside again. We ate and talk mindlessly, sitting away from each other. Even in my state of absolute indifference, I discovered peace while sitting in her presence. At first it pained me a lot to see her keeping to the other side of the room. Time and insomnia dulled all feelings but grave desperation.

Although she slept more, I saw her became indifferent like me and found I didn't have to insist on anything anymore. Christine was quiet and obedient, sometimes reading my mind before I gathered myself to speak. This was supposed to make me happy, that she knew me so well, but somehow my heart failed to recognize it as happiness. She never protested or disagreed with me. Her rare smile was overfilled with sadness, I couldn't stand the sight of it. In such a mournful state she was, I didn't dare speak of love, not once. Slowly we were turning to a pair of sleepwalkers, in a slow, mirthless, never ending dream.

It had been over a month now, and we were sitting for dinner, silently eating the cold food from yesterday. The meal came tasteless to my mouth so I proposed to have some wine, and brought glasses to the table. One or two cups would do her no harm. Christine took hers and gazed at me waiting for something. I was about to sip from mine when her eyes widen and stopped me. I looked at the glass in my hand and put a tremendous effort to focus my thoughts. Nothing, and she was still staring at me. I touched my face lightly to feel my mask and finally gave up.

"There is something you want to say."

"You should make a toast, I mean, before we start with the wine."

That was the third time we dined with wine. Why now? Whatever.

"A toast."

"Yes, like a wish for happiness or a blessing."

Poor child, she was craving for some happiness even an illusionary one. My throat closed when I tried to speak the words. How am I to bless our misery? My body was rebelling against me and my stubbornness.

"You say it, Christine."

She looked at me confused and I saw something in her eyes when she spoke.

"I can't, the head of the family should do that."

So it is a man responsibility to bless his home and his beloved one. As it is his duty to provide for her and make her happy. I observed her face for a long moment before I finally made up my mind. I raised my glass and she mirrored my gesture.

"To your health and happiness, my dear."

"To our happiness."

I accepted the correction, for in truth, it was the same. She drank her glass empty to honor the toast and I went to fill it again, this time adding a tasteless powder to the spirit.

In five minutes, Christine was sound asleep on the table. The sedative was strong and dangerous for an everyday use, but it was a necessity at the moment. I carried her to the bed and lay myself beside her. A two hour sleep had to clear my mind enough, so I set my watch to wake me up and hugged my love. My face bare, I reached for her neck, allowing myself a single goodbye kiss.

I closed my eyes and in a second I had to open them again to the sound of the alarm. Christine was sleeping in my arms and for a moment I considered forgetting the plan and going back to sleep. The sense of her thin, bony hands seeking warmth in mine strengthened my will. I would not prolong her agony a minute more.

I dressed myself comfortably, then made for Christine's dresser. There was no black dress there, but I knew of a certain thick, dark blue one which would do. I gathered her things in a bag and tucked a knife in my waistband. It was my favourite one, made specifically for delivering a quick and silent death. After one final look to my home, I picked Christine up and left for the surface.

xxx

Pathetic, I was unbelievably pathetic halting every 10 or 15 minutes to rest, cursing low on every step, faint and unsteady. My hands were weakening, I was constantly afraid of dropping her on the stones. I had to go quicker but simply couldn't. By the time we reached the stables I was shaking uncontrollably, irritated and exhausted, sweat pouring like water from my body. I wrapped my Christine in the cloak and went for the stallion.

Unfortunately, the night was bright, full moon only two days ahead. The freezing cold, not typical for an early March, turned my sweat to ice in no time, adding twists to my constant shaking. I was getting limp with every mile on the back of that horse, pressing the girl to my body as tightly as possible. We were almost done I couldn't stop now. I changed my hands and once again thanked God that Cesar had such an even pace. The horse was moving like a black storm beneath me filling me with confidence for our success.

We reached de Chagny estate. I've been here two or three times in the past month, and never until now could I answer why. I knew where Raoul slept, and I would only hope he was home tonight. I had heard his name so often during those nights that I became used to it. What a thing, to have a name. A name means someone wants to call you, to imprint some memory from their past on you. With a name they, acknowledge your existence.

Cesar was lying on the ground and I put Christine close to his body, resting her head on his front legs. I commanded the stallion to be still and moved away. Even in that night, they were practically invisible to anybody but me.

My power was melting in my veins when finally I reached Raoul's window. Of course he slept on the third floor; I would do the same. It was locked and I moved to the next in hopes of finding it open. With those shaking hands, I dismissed all thoughts of a challenge concerning the keyhole. The fourth one proved open, and I made it into the house. His bedroom wasn't locked, allowing me to slip soundlessly inside and to open his window. I watched him sleep for a while, fighting the urge to slit his throat. How did he make her love him? Was she going to sleep here with him after tonight? My body was hurting like Hell, and I wanted nothing more than to give him pain as well.

I bent over the boy, slowly pulling my knife free. It would be that easy. Instead I brought both of my hands to his face, simultaneously planting a knee in his chest. He woke with a start and a wave of satisfying pleasure washed over me that he could experience this for once in his life. He was a boy, his eyes widen with terror when he recognized me. I hoped he would piss his pants in his fright. The knife was pressing on his neck, making a dark bloody mark there. My hand on his mouth prevented him from screaming or even breathing for I noticed his nose was full.

"Not a sound, viscount. I will speak – you will listen. Understand?"

Raoul nodded slowly, eyes burning with so much hatered, I could easily mistake them for mine. I parted my fingers on his mouth and felt the breath being sucked in through the gap.

"You want Christine back, yes?"

His eyes told me the answer before he managed to nod again and I continued.

"Meet me at the servant's entrance in five minutes. Alone."

I left him, and got out of the window, heading for the back door. Anger and humiliation commanded my body to concentrate on the task. Once there, I leaned on a tree and closed my eyes. Nothing. The house was quiet and I suspected Raoul was still too busy deciding which pair of socks to wear for the occasion.

The moment he stepped out, I was behind him, the blade resting lightly on his neck.

"Where is Christine you ..."

I pressed the knife firmer and he went silent.

"Your word, that you will follow me peacefully, no tricks."

The noble boy hesitated only for a moment, then he spoke in a low voice, imitating his father perhaps.

"You have my word."

I let him go and immediately headed towards Christine. Raoul was a step behind me breathing heavily. I made sure he would not see me shaking. I quickened my pace unwilling to give him time to change his mind.

Reaching them, Raoul knelt beside her, after I steadied the horse.

"You left her here? Alone?"

His hate had returned, but I had no power or desire to explain myself.

"Christine? Christine! What have you done? What is wrong..."

"Stop shouting, boy. She is drugged. She will wake tomorrow, around noon with a headache, nothing more."

He stood from her side and faced me.

"You bastard, you broke her, didn't you." - He pointed back to Christine - " Look at her! She is not herself. She looks dead. Dead!"

Raoul threw my cloak away and took Christine in his arms. He turned for the house when I heard him sob. My heart and soul abandoned me when I made Cesar rise and climbed on his back like a very old man.

"Viscount!"

He stopped but didn't turn back.

"Don't deny music to her."

Raoul stepped forward and I turned towards Paris, urging Cesar to go faster and faster.

I reached the opera in no time, my consciousness floating in and out of focus. There was an early stableman whom I knock down before attempting to unsaddle the horse. Reaching up, I froze, gazing at the bag which had no business there. I have completely forgotten about Christine's stuff. So she would have nothing to remind her of our hellish time together, maybe for the best. It was I who needed to keep all memories alive. To remember why, I would never deserve her.

My empty home and haunted bedroom were where I left them. I took a blanket and a pillow and slowly went behind the organ, curled in my hiding place holding her bag to my chest. I'd fallen asleep before I could say "Christine" once more.


	2. Chapter 2

A week passed by, before I could find my strength again. My hands shook for days, keeping me away from the organ. Most of the time I lay on my back listening to music only I could hear. I recalled performances of opera overtures, combining one perfect from several good ones. A mechanical task of adding and subtracting different parts or instruments. It sounded good but to my ears it felt artificial, non-alive.

One night I decided to entertain myself drinking a cup of every alcohol I had in store. The result was devastating to my body but somehow liberating for my soul. I ended in the lake, face up, floating like a piece of wood, too old and crappy to sink beneath the surface. My soul resembled a soap bubble – hollow, flying to nowhere, destined to disappear from the world without a trace. Drinking always makes me melodramatic for a while, then leaves me full of shame and totally pissed at myself. Pathetic.

Sitting at the organ I could not find a single original thought, or idea, or tune in my mind. Banality was flooding my life, leaving no space for anything else. I've never felt that drained of mental power before. As a man living alone it is essential to know how to be a good enough company to myself. For the very first time I felt deadly bored.

Meanwhile, the weather improved drastically and I spent a night on the top of the opera house looking at the stars. The same stars which were visible through Raoul's window.

I was missing her, every moment of every day.

After I came to my senses and felt my hands steady and obedient, I cleared a space in the bedroom and arranged all her belongings there. I rarely slept in the bed anymore, but kept visiting this little shrine of hers every day. One of her portraits was placed behind the little bottles, against the wall . Whenever I would look at it, I could hear Raoul's words "She looks dead. Dead!". Did I really kill her? In my latest memories she was nothing like the girl on the paper before me. Was she alright?

My desire to see her was strong, but my fear of what I might find was stronger. I felt lifeless already, what if I discovered she was no more. Beneath that dulled state of mind there was a thick, sticky layer of terror, which I was desperately fighting to suppress. Since the recovery was taking me that long, had her fragile body started to recover at all? Or may be not so fragile. Sometimes I would unclothe and look at the bruises she left me with. Some had began to fade, others were still yellow and green. They were healing slower than any other I had had before. I was grateful she never struck my balls, though she came pretty close once. Who would imagine such a small girl could kick that strong. Or punch? My Christine hated me so much she hated me even while sleeping.

Days went on, and I returned to my previous business of managing the opera. Nobody came searching for me ever again. After I've sent money to the managers and helped them to reconstruct the building, they finally started to listen. Of all the people, I've known through the years, in their position, those were the most ignorant and foreign to art, therefor they needed my guidance in every aspect of opera life. I ordered on making an emergency plan in case of fire and they did it without a comment. Carlota had left, and we were in a process of acquiring a new Prima. Few of the women I've heard, actually had some qualities but at the end Fermin insisted on sending invitations to several well-known singers working in other opera houses. I've no objections to that and soon the letters were dispatched with only "minor" corrections in the proposed salaries. Those two are unbelievably tightfisted.

I continued to ignore the fact that all of this brought me no joy at all. I filled my time with everything I could think of, denying any thoughts I had for Christine. My heart was deserted and even music refused to come to me now. I played for hours every day, I heard thousands of notes but they were piling around my ears like garbage. My inner world was deaf and blind, unable to recognize the worthiness of the art. Pieces I adored before sounded like a bloody noise and more and more I inclined towards silence against any kind of music. Silence was a suitable company for a mute soul. A monotonous grief with occasional picks of piercing pain were the only remaining pieces of emotions left. In no more than three weeks, I've become the perfect match for the wooden replica of Christine.

Life seemed pointless, yet I was not ready to die.

Christine.

I needed to see her, if only for a moment. To try and capture the seed of music and eventually plant it in my desert of a soul. I wanted my music back. The girl I gave away but I would be damned before I would allow myself to be abandoned in silence, in nothingness. My life would know beauty once again.

They were expecting me to return, I was certain of that. On our last meeting I left the Viscount stuffed with enough hatred and fear to keep him alert for a long while. Now I had 2 points against his 1 in the cemetery, and soon I would score again. After spending another night at the top, I decided to go no the next. No preparations were needed for I had convinced the marionettes to sell Cesar away. I payed a fortune and moved him to a stable not far away from the theater. The stableman I had hit that night, almost died before anyone could find him, and I would not risk my truce with the managers for no good reason. With only a knife in my belt I took Cesar out, glad to see people were tending to him with care. We run in the black night at the top of his speed, blending perfectly in the darkness.

I left the horse at a different spot, a lot farther from the main house. Since I was able to do this previously, drained of logic and power, I sure would have no problems now as I had completely recovered from the tension. Even more, the moment I set foot on the ground I knew Christine was alive somewhere in the house. As if a veil was removed from my eyes when I headed for the manor, focused on my hearing. It was quiet, but not too quiet. I picked the darkest corner and climbed to the top. There was a space between the roof and the third floor rooms rising to a full height attics above the wings of the building. I got in and started to crawl from the center to the left wing, where Raoul's rooms were. The place was huge, I could stay there hidden during the whole next day, if it was not for the horse. There were no servants' rooms on the last floor and every respectable noble man was asleep at this time.

I got to where I remembered his bedroom was. I put my ear on the floor and recognized the same steady mouth breathing I came to know from before. Was she...? Without a warning my heart began to pound in my ears, effectively cutting all low noises out. I cursed that very organ which brought me to this in first place. To crawl like a spider in his attic, protecting his dreams instead of invading them. With the knife I made a little hole between two planking and managed to look at his bed. And there, in the dust of many years, I took in the sweetest breath in my life. The Viscount was alone.

In no time my mind sped up and began to work properly, like it used to do, measuring distances, calculating possibilities. She was somewhere near, I would bet my head on that. After a few more minutes of thinking, I aimed at a room neither too near the one below me, nor too far from it, facing the garden and not the pavement. There, the attic was higher and I crawled carefully on my hands and knees. I knew I was right, long before I managed to reach my destination.

Christine was singing to herself, just above a whisper, certain nobody could hear her. I made another hole in the roof and was just about to look in when she stopped. The house was supposed to go quiet then, but there was another voice in the night air, mine. Without a thought I had started to fill her song with another, lower layer tune. Curse all heavens, how did I let that happen? I closed my mouth and looked through the hole.

She was there, standing besides her bed, gaping at the ceiling. My beautiful girl. A smile stretched my face, warmth building inside me in a tremendous speed. There was a high wave of emotion I could barely restrain to the confinements of my chest. My precious, delicate rose. She looked much better now, but still sad, somehow. Christine had her sleeping problems manifesting again, for she was singing in the middle of the night. I sighed and her gaze moved directly towards the tiny hole.

"Angel?"

She stepped closer climbing on the bed and reached out to touch the sky. I looked for happiness but found armistice instead. Her eyes reminded me of the time when I first saw her as a child. It took me five months to bring the light back to those eyes. Now she was searching for me with her sadden gaze again. I had expected much more from Raoul. A little visit perhaps, before I left ...

"Angel?"

I wanted to see if she was fine, not to madden her again somehow. I was lying on the floor listening to her magical voice, my eyes shut. Joy and fear were fighting to direct my next move.

"Angel, please."

She began to sing again, her voice weak and unsteady. I couldn't resist and looked down again. Christine was singing with her eyes averted to the ceiling. They were filling with disbelieve, tears ready to fall down her face. My only love, how I longed to hold you again, how I wanted to feel your warm little feet kicking me mercilessly in the guts. Why didn't he make you happy? Why did he leave you here, to cry alone in the dark? My sorrow was pouring out in a song again and I saw Christine close her eyes, a smile forming on her face.

We sang for almost an hour before her tears dried completely and she sat down looking up expectantly. There were no more questions in her voice.

"Angel."

"Open the window, Christine."

I bit my tongue, but it was too late, she was already flying for the window. I stood up and made my way out as quickly as possible. Back on the roof, I let a deep sigh out trying to collect myself. I could flee now and never return to her. She definitely looked better now, it was obvious, he was taking good care for her. Was "good" enough? Yes, and I could leave but unfortunately my body had different plans, for I was already climbing down and soon stepped through the open window.

I came straight into Christine's arms. God !

"Angel! Angel! Angel!..."

I was speechless and touched so much, my core was reverberating with every saying of my title. Never in my life, I had received such a welcoming and I felt I couldn't breath. My heart was pounding fast, demanding its next portion of clean air, but it was beyond my power to accomplish this. Christine was hugging me strong, her head pressed to my overdone heart, hidden in my arms. All was thunder and heat inside of me. Soon there was buzzing in my ears and my vision blurred until I could see only large colorful spots. I was going to faint.

My lunges spasm and filled with air at the same moment my knees gave away and both of us fell on the floor, a thick carpet suppressing the noise. We lay close for a long time, when I finally began to feel better. I opened and closed my eyes to clear my vision. I needed to get out of there soon.

I sensed her move, then she began to brush the dust from my coat. There was a sudden urge to laugh at myself. I came to see if she was fine, to take care of her and at the end I was the one to be taken care of. Pathetic. I stopped her hand.

"When are we going home, Angel?"

I sat up, my worry coming back to me with a hint of pure terror. She was loosing her mind. I did really broke her after all. I focused all my knowledge, everything I knew of mental disorders and looked deep into her eyes searching for a sign. Christine was looking at me, smiling at me with her youthful lips, totally unaware of my attempted examination. This smile was nothing like the ones she used to give me weeks ago, and yet it was not what I expected to find tonight. No desperation but no natural happiness either. There was fondness? I shook my head.

"You don't have to ever come back, Christine. Your home is here now."

Her sadness resurfaced at once, and she took my hand in both of hers.

"What did I do wrong? I will try harder, I promise..."

At that moment I lost my ability to think, but my memories were too bright, alarmingly clear before my eyes. The unreasonable heart began to twist again. She was so close now.

"Christine, you don't have to... "

She was looking at the carpet, sighing quietly and I used my free hand to caress her cheek. She didn't lift her eyes.

"I've hurt you haven't I? The doctor said I was sleeping restless the first few nights here."

"You sleep more now, I can see..."

She shook her head.

"They give me a medicine to sleep, but it makes me sick the whole day after. "

I felt fury dispersing all confusion in my mind. First the Viscount, then the doctor. I was going to be busy soon. For now I had a flower in my hand so I pushed all thoughts of pain away, trying to comprehend the full extend of the problem.

"But you look better, much better."

"I stay awake one night and on the next I sleep just fine without the medicine. The truth is..."

She looked at me and I caressed her face again. I couldn't stop.

"Tell me, dear, don't be afraid."

Christine smiled, squeezing my fingers.

"I am not afraid, Angel. I am ashamed of myself, I should have known better."

She sounded quite sane, still I couldn't understand her words. What was she talking about? I heard Cesar nicker at a distance. I had to go soon.

"I don't have much time, Christine. I came to see you, and I am glad you look better. I can come again if you wish. Oh Christine, please don't cry..."

Her tears were wetting our hands and I pressed her head to me again. Her sadness was bothering me immensely.

"You mustn't cry, Christine. You wanted this, you wanted to be with him. You feel, you look better now. I...I almost killed you, dear. "

The wind blew another nicker and I stood up. Christine threw herself to the dresser and frantically began to remove her night gown. Bloody Hell, she have decided to succumb to me now? She was undressing and talking at the same time, her mind too stressed to remember modesty. Mine was not, so I turned to the window, unable to make myself go yet.

"Please don't leave me here. I will dress in a minute and we can go, please. Angel, don't go without me. You promised me, remember? You promised not to leave me ever. Don't... don't leave me again. Angel..."

I was up on the window frame when she turned and saw me leaving. A desperate cry escaped her and she run towards me, her arms outstretched to stop me. My heart was aching at the mere site of her half dressed form clutching to me. She was definitely mad. That was why she was here and not there with Raoul. It had all been in vain. I was responsible for this and unfortunately I was better qualified to deal with the situation than all of Paris's physicians as a whole. But how can I take her with me now? I took her face between my hands and she calmed momentarily, muscles and expression relaxing considerably. I could clearly see the fog behind her eyes. May be she would reconsider once I rid herself off my presence. May be it was a reaction to her horror of me. Saying what she thought I wanted to hear. I sincerely hoped to be right for once this time.

"Christine, if you really want to come, meet me on the road near the right corner of the building in half an hour. Get out, look to the right and go to the corner. In half an hour."

I put my watch in her hands while she was nodding at my words.

"I can't stop to wait for you there. I will slow down for a moment to pick you up, but you must be there, Christine. If you are not, I would not be angry at you, sweet child. Come, only if you want to."

She was shaking, whispering something to herself. I freed myself from her and climbed down to the ground. I run to find Cesar alerted, but there was nobody around him. I tore my shirt and made horse shoes from the rags. The road was paved a mile before and a mile after the big house and I couldn't afford to be heard. Riding openly through Viscount's land wasn't wise at all, but I had no time to search for another path in the adjacent forest. A man-made groups of trees may hide men and man-made danger. My plan was based on Cesar's speed and on the tiny hope that she would not be there. God knew what she was thinking of now.

I went for the road my hand on Cesar nostrils to make him stay calm. He was sensing my excitement, better say distress, and wanted to dance and nicker again. My inner timer stroke five minutes to our meeting. I decided to give her six and lightly spurred the horse up the paved road. I increased the speed gradually until Cesar was running like a Hell hound, silent and unstoppable.

The minutes stretched long, then longer. My hair went up on my neck when I imagined Christine waiting for me there till the end of time. Such a stupid thought but made me panic and I spurred the horse even more. I could hear his hoofs thundering beneath me, making terrible noise for everyone to hear. We were flying as if through a vast, sticky mist, which was wrapping around Cesar's legs, slowing him down.

The metronome was howling in my mind, every second trailing slower than the previous. One infinite minute left. We run and run and run like forever.

I recognized the house and began to decrease Cesar's gallop down to a canter, then to a trot. My eyes were fixed at the distant corner of the building. Either I was imagining things, or I could see a lighter spot moving there. Was it possible? Was it really possible? The spot began to grow and soon I could distinguish her head and her hands, wrapping and unwrapping around her body. In spite of the dread that had conquered my soul through the blatant realization of my guilt, there was a song forming in my mind. One of triumphant joy. Christine may be mad, but she was mine.

I approached the house and freed my arm to help her up. She stepped towards me and she was smiling …

… two shots came out as one and my head exploded in pain.

I heard Christine scream, I saw her running to me, I felt her climbing behind me on the horse and shouting again. Cesar jumped forward and in a moment we were away from the house and its rifles. And then, there was nothing I could see, for my eyes were filling with blood. After several miles, I made a sharp turn to the left and abandoned the damned road.

I halted the horse and jumped down turning towards Christine only to find her on the ground already. On top of her previous behavior, I expected hysteria but she was in some kind of shock staring at me, speechless. I went to her and hugged her. Soon she realized it was blood staining her dress and her eyes looked at my face, turning huge and glassy. Her hands went up but she didn't dare to touch me.

"No, no, no . Oh God, no, no."

She clasped her hands over her mouth to suppress a scream.

Meanwhile I began to undress. My shirt was going to be useful again, tonight. I carefully touched my head and soon found the wound. It was shallow and otherwise harmless but for the irritating tendency of all head injuries to bleed extensively. They were shooting from the roof. One inch down and I would be dead now. Bastards!

I cut a piece from my shirt and made a tampon. Christine was standing in front of me her hands still clasped to her face. I knew exactly how to bring her back from the shock.

"Will you help me a little?"

She nodded and came closer. I sat on the ground with my back facing her.

"Come closer now, closer, Christine. I need you to hold this pressed to my head, like that."

I took her hand and pressed the palm to the tampon. Her legs along my back gave me some support and comfort at the same time. Surprisingly her free hand ended on the side of my neck, grasping it and holding to it, fingers spread widely over my trachea.

I started to prepare bandages from the shirt. It took more time than I expected but Christine's closeness to me proved to be a powerful distraction. She stood silent, focused on her little task of keeping my blood inside my body. I placed the first layer of cloth on top of her hand and she instinctively pressed it down with her other one, sliding the first away from between the two layers.

"Very good, dear. Well done!"

She touched my hand as an answer and I began to wrap the bandages around my head. My face was naked to my fingers and with a rush of panic I realized I have lost my mask. When? Aha! Just after the shot I tried to clean my eyes and pulled it away. There was nothing I could do but the night was dark enough to hide my face with or without a mask. Besides I have always wondered what it would be like to ride with a bare face against the wind.

Stop! There were two shots, not one!

May be shock wasn't foreign for me either for I was thinking too slowly. I stood up and whirled back to Christine, searching for blood with my eyes only.

"Angel?"

"Turn around Christine, now!"

She did it and I studied her body, even lifted her curls from her neck. A relieved sigh sank in her hair when I embraced her from behind. I felt too happy I could not restrain myself, not now.

"You are unharmed, my dear. I am so, so grateful for that."

I relaxed my almost bandaged head on hers for a moment.

"Why did..."

"There were two shots, Christine. One of them missed."

"Why did he do that to you, to us. Raoul is not like this, I don't understand."

My face was still in her hair and I was breathing deep, feeling life occupy its abandoned quarters in my body. I had earned a second chance. Her hand covered mine on her waist as a confirmation to my thoughts.

"Did you understand when I tried to kill him in the cemetery?"

"Not quite but that was different. You two were fighting and you knew you were doing it, though it was unclear why did you two did it... the fighting I mean. Why do you laugh at me."

Waves of laughter run through me at her attempt to describe and explain the deadly duel like it was a chess game. I lifted my head from her hair and laughed out loud again. She turned to face me and placed her hand on my elbow.

"Angel, you are freezing! Can we go home now? Please?"

Home. Back to her nightmares sparkled by the gloom, moist cave I called home. I will arrange a nice place for her, above ground, near to the opera. Tomorrow.

I finished with my injury, called for Cesar and soon we were heading towards Paris. I told her to be quiet and the moment I spotted the pavement I turned the horse to the right. I have reconsidered about the forest. We made a huge arc around house de Chagny and when I was sure we were out of his land, Cesar went to gallop again, flying over the road. I held Christine in front of me and she was leaning on my chest to give me some of her warmth. Sweet girl. She kept silent which gave me time to think. My love was unharmed so I wasn't planning to seek revenge. I've been hurt numerous times in my life, it wasn't something new. Nevertheless I needed to come back to give the Viscount one final warning. And Christine? I was growing positive her head was alright. All her reactions till now spoke about it. But if I didn't know better, I would say she was sincerely happy to see me tonight.

Such a riddle.


	3. Chapter 3

For Guest: This update is for you :). Thank you for the review my friend, it means a lot to me.

**NB!** This chapter and the previous one were not corrected by beta reader. Any mistakes you find here are mine.

3

We left Cesar after dawn, when the city began to fill with more and more people.

"How are we to go to the opera now? They will see you, Angel."

There was not even a hint of unease when she was looking at my face, a prove that it was hidden enough. I shook my head at her worried eyes.

"They will see a woman helping her man home, after a night fight in a tavern. You will hold my arm around your shoulders, and scold me loudly for every sin, ever committed in this town. And I will try to make you stop for my head will be killing me after last night's couple of drinks."

During my speech, her smile grew wider and now she was beaming at me, infesting my darkness with her light. I gave her details about scolding and we left.

Christine proved to be good. She never stopped talking and by the time we reached our destination my head was hurting me for real. Her tongue was surprisingly colorful and I would have enjoyed it to a full degree, if I wasn't forced to keep my head low and my body hunched to her side. She continued even after we entered the tunnels and I had to close her mouth manually to silence her. She was excited and breathless, amused.

"That is enough Christine, you do remember we have to be quiet here?"

"It was such a fun. Did you see that woman with the green..."

I tried to pull away from her but she simply guided my hand to her waist and put hers around mine. Confusion stilled my movements and she lifted her eyes to mine. I would never grow tired of those upturned warm eyes, full of velvet gentleness pointed towards every living creature around her. The fog in her gaze was nowhere to be found.

"I don't want you to catch a cold after tonight, after everything. With that open wound on your head. It will never heal."

She was so charming, trying to take care of me like that, so naive to think a little cold can bother me at all. I didn't know where all of this was coming from but to Hell with reason. I held her closer and we began the last part of our journey home. After a few minutes I felt my neck muscles starting to relax. In a night like this, my gloomy dungeon felt comfortable and secure and I treasured that knowledge. Christine was silent while we descended to the fifth cellar. This place wasn't fit for her, but today I would keep her here, with me.

Once inside, I tried to stop at the organ but she pulled me forward, towards the bedroom. A predictable behavior for I could see how tired she was.

"Not so fast little one, I need to change those with a real set."

I crouched by the "pain" trunk and opened it. Christine gasped behind me when she saw some of its contents.

"Ah, dear Lord, what is that for?"

"Your ignorance is a blessing, I can only dream of."

I took iodine, bandages and a thicker cloth for the tampon. Meanwhile, Christine went around the room, lit up some candles and came back to me. She looked dully at my body when I removed my coat. My face! She haven't seen my face in a while, it would be inhuman to thrust it on her now. I lowered my hands from the bandages.

"You must be tired Christine, go get some sleep now. "

She moved as if to obey, but turned back, frowning at me.

"How... who will hold the cloth in place, while you prepare the new one? You will lose much blood."

I thought for a moment and waved her to go behind me again. She did and placed her hands on my shoulders. I was constantly amazed by her new-found willingness to touch me, as it was quite unexpected. A full scale contrast to the way she was before. I removed the rags from my face and Christine immediately put her hand on the tampon. It was soaked with blood yet her hand didn't flinch, not a bit. I took the tweezers and put a small piece of cloth in the iodine.

"Now listen, take this and dragged it around the edge of the wound, but not inside. Don't worry, it would paint my skin yellow. Ready? Let go now."

I gave her the tweezers and slowly fist my hands not to frighten her. With the first sting I fist them tighter and held them till she was finished, secretly proud that none of my pain had manifested. I handed her the clean tampon and she quickly pressed it down to stop the bleeding. The new bandages hid some of the deformity and when Christine stepped from behind me I covered my face.

"Do you want me to bring you a mask, Angel?"

A red colored shame turned my head away at her words. Christine was the only woman who could use "mask" and "angel" in one sentence like that. In her damaged brain, damaged by me, angels were wearing masks instead of wings. I was unable to understand her talking about this as if it was nothing. As if she had accepted that to be normal for herself. This unrepairable ugliness reinforced in her life. I couldn't stand this acquiescence of hers, she deserved so much more.

"No, go to bed Christine."

She left for the bedroom and I quickly found the right mask to fit over the bandages. I unlit the candles, and halted outside the bedroom, memories threatening my resolve to enter. I had gone there to say goodbye, instead I somehow ended in front of my bedroom, waiting for her to change for a night rest. Unthinkable. Unexplainable. Desirable. An example of how everything may go completely wrong and yet to perfectly repair the broken pieces. I didn't know I had missed her that much.

I glanced to make sure she was under the covers, and stepped inside. I took a clean shirt and was about to put it on when she stopped me, pulling me to sit beside her. The same dull look in her eyes. My face? Not this time. She brushed her fingers over one brownish spot next to my belly button.

"I did that."

"Yes, in your sleep. "

"You didn't say a word about this, why?"

A question, ah? How typical for her to ask instead of think it over. An ancient proverb says "the fault is never in the student".

"You tell me Christine, why would I? It seamed only natural to me to be hated."

She looked at my face with utter disbelieve.

"You thought I hated you? All this time?"

"You were kicking me, punching me in the face, screaming his name or crying all night long. What was I supposed to think?"

She went pale and I cursed my big mouth. I wasn't the bloody victim here.

"Did it hurt a lot?"

She was on the verge of tears again and all I wanted was to change the subject.

"Christine, you need not worry about this, no my dear."

"Tell me the truth, Angel, I need to know the truth, please."

I scratched my neck while deciding what to do. She was persistent, damn it.

"Sometimes it hurt more but nothing, nothing special, believe me. It was nothing, really."

She brought her hands to me then, but when I tried to take one she fist them.

"I think it's best to tie me at night, and the legs too."

I jumped off the bed. The face, the eyes, she was dead serious. A tied up Christine in my bed was a vision from my most secret dreams. Shame and anger burnt my face as I cut.

"Don't be ridiculous!"

"But if ..."

"No! We can sleep separated if we must, but this... this... Forget it, Christine!"

"But..."

"I SAID, FORGET IT!"

This absurdity of a woman! This... I didn't realize I was yelling, until I saw her back away from me. I grabbed the shirt and went for the exit harshly kicking something in my path.

"I will sleep outside. If you need me, look behind the organ."

"Wait!"

I stopped and listened at how she tried to find her words. My anger extinguished, she needed one word to call me back, only one. I was too proud to do it myself.

"I am so tired now... Stay with me, Angel, I beg you."

On her last word I turned slowly and blew the candles out for I was desperate to hold her again. In the dark I put the shirt on, changed my dirty trousers and got under the covers. I was over excited I could see sparks behind my eyelids. I opened my eyes to welcome the darkness and listened to her sigh. Christine had turned her back to me and now I was hesitant to touch her. The cascading waves of her hair instantly captured my full attention. She was still awake, it was clear in her breathing. She sighed again, then again. It went on for a long while.

"I thought you were tired."

"I am."

Another sigh.

"The room is full of sighs, Christine. Soon there will be no space for us."

She didn't say anything just sighed again. I sat up irritated. Why did she request my presence here? I was not in a mood for a sighing contest.

"May be I should leave you to your pile of..."

Cautiously she roll over to face me. Her expression was solemn. She opened her mouth several times before managing to speak.

"If I … hurt you again, where will you send me?"

I can't explain what I felt but it was falling, fast and heavy smashing everything in its path. Oh, my baby girl. So many feelings in her few words, such misery of the soul. Such guilt in my guts. I lay down and added another sigh to our collection before looking at her.

"Don't you want to live somewhere else? Somewhere with more light?"

"No."

"Why not, Christine? What about a small apartment in a decent part of the city. Hm?"

"You don't like to be in the light."

"Forget what I like! Think of it, dear. Think of the sun, the warmth..."

"No."

I couldn't remember her that reassured before. She hadn't been a stubborn child, on the contrary, it had been quite easy to convince her to do anything. Well, for me at least.

"Christine, has something happened? I remember quite well that you dread darkness."

Her eyes were open, moving slowly in the dark, heavy with thoughts.

"This was before, yes. Now I know darkness has everything I need."

Christine was talking like the Oracle of Delphi, every sentence more mysterious than the previous. Darkness was a dear friend of mine, but even I felt like a rat in that cave sometimes, it didn't make any sense. Like I was given only half of the information. She was making me feel stupid and soon I found I had to fight my growing irritation and discomfort. I must have been silent for a while, and her voice startled me a little.

"It has you."

She tried to embrace me then, but I stopped her hands midway. I had to know which one of us was progressing in madness before I could give in to feelings. I concentrated on her words .

"What are you saying, Christine?"

"Its true, Angel. Do you remember how I used to search for you during night?"

"A hum?"

"I always took a candle with me, a habit you know, but I never felt the need to lit that candle. I knew you would find me before I could make a wrong move. I knew I was safe in the dark with you. I was safe."

I couldn't understand her and it was killing me.

"I forced you to stay here and you felt safe with me. How do you expect me to believe this?"

We were facing each other and when she was speaking the air from her mouth was grazing my chin, distracting me. Hell, I wanted to kiss her.

"But it is true. I am telling the truth."

"Christine, I know you since you were little and never, do you hear me Christine, never before there was such restlessness in your sleep. All I needed to do was sing a short song and you were gone. You were sleeping like a baby, for Christ's sake!"

She inhaled deeply this time and her eyes went blank.

"I was terrified. The first night. You took Raoul up and send me to bed. I dreaded the moment you would come back because I was sure you will … violate me."

That woman! After all I did to become a gentleman. A real gentleman out of a wild, savage boy. It wasn't fair. I never did anything to make her believe that. Never! Well, I allowed myself to touch her several times before, but she enjoyed it. She believed me capable of raping her? ! Women are...

"I was sure you were mad at me for the mask. It was madness and cruelty and … and … I am so sorry. I thought you would run away, like the first time. "

She waited for me to say something but I couldn't. The memory of that moment alone was enough to make me leave and never return.

"You came back and I prepared for my fate. I felt you behind me and when you reached my nerves... they... and I hit you. Oh God, I hit you every time you tried to touch me. When you gave away I fall a sleep only to find myself in the same nightmare. I suppose I was hitting you in my dream too. Your hand was reaching for me and I was fighting it and then it was reaching again. When I woke up you were gone and the day was normal enough to ease my fear. Until you send me to bed again. Oh, Angel forgive me, I was so scared and my mind was a mess."

So she really thought me a beast. An ugly satyr who either plays a pan-flute or fucks young maidens. In fact the first strike had caught me too off guard and I had almost hit her back. An animal reflex, perhaps, fitted for an animal. I couldn't suppress the dryness of my voice.

"You did the same that night if I can remember correctly."

She closed her eyes and hid them in her pillow.

"The truth is, I never tried to touch you the first night. Nor on the second or the third. I was just making myself comfortable in the bed when you first hit me. Every time I tried to switch my position I received a hit. You have my word I never tried anything."

A choked whisper came from within the pillow.

"I know."

Poor girl. She wasn't mad but she was filled to the top with half- thoughts half- emotions she didn't know how to unleash. Neither did I.

My voice was calm.

"Why do you cry, Christine? I..."

"Please, let me finish. Please? After... after the fifth night I was exhausted. I didn't want to fight anymore. You were gentle with me, caring like when you were the Angel of music. I realized I had pushed aside all wonderful memories I had with you. Now they were coming back to me. Nine years, Angel! The music... I still don't understand how I managed to forget like that. I don't... I waited for you to call me for a music lesson but it never happen. And on the following days I waited again but it never came. I was desperate to sing for you but you never asked me."

"I believed you would die before singing for me again."

Her face was a frozen personification of true sorrow and my heart was howling with her pain.

"I believed you didn't want me anymore."

I let a disapproving sound to that. I hope she will never know how much I wanted her during that week. Her fists gave me numerous points to focus my attention on and that was how I managed.

"I waited for you to take me or even touch me one of those nights but you never did. I wasn't afraid anymore but the awful dreams never stopped. And one night... one night I dreamed of Raoul. He came to me and slapped me hard in the face. He called me a whore and raped me again and again. I didn't, Angel... I woke up crying and when you hugged me I realized, how could I be so stupid, I realized you would never do this to me, Angel. "

She grabbed my hand and kissed it. Her tears were like a stream and I couldn't take it anymore. I moved closer and held her. Her face landed on my neck and I could hear her whisper.

"Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me..."

There was nothing to forgive but that wasn't the answer she was looking for. I caressed her and held her until her sobs lessened. Slowly her hand slipped around my waist and clutched the shirt, yet I wasn't going anywhere. Christine let out a relieved sigh and continued whispering in my ear.

"The nightmares never ceased but it was never you, never. Only him. I began to hate the moment you would send me to bed. I tried to stay awake as long as possible but I was tired all the time. Angel? Don't be mad at me but I knew you would hug me if I cry and, promise you will not be mad, promise."

Her voice was small and her tears threatened to drown us in the bed but she needed to talk. I bet she had been quite silent in that house.

"Promise."

"I made myself cry for no reason, just to make you hug me."

I gave a smile to the darkness, I wasn't surprised. My sweet, sweet girl, she was doing the same as a child when scared.

"Why didn't you ask? Your tears made a river from the bedroom to the lake. I was convinced I would see an ocean fish soon."

Her body shook against main and she was laughing in my ear. I let her go and her laughter died with my move. It was time for a different lesson. My heart quickened and I said with forced confidence.

"Ask me, Christine."

My face was serious and she kept moving her eyes between mine, for they were glowing now. Her voice was hollow, I could smell the rejection she was convinced to follow.

"Hug me, Angel, ple..."

I didn't wait for her to finish. I lay back and dragged her to rest on my chest. Away from the tear-wet part of the bed. I felt her body loose its tension and allowed myself the same.

"I can't deny you anything, dear. A hug, a slap, whatever you want."

She giggled again and I was left surprised at how easy it was to make her laugh now.

"I was sure you would say no, and there would be no turning back. You wasn't interested in me anymore. You didn't want my voice. I felt useless so I just stayed out of your way. "

I was roaming her hair, lifting it in the air and dropping curls to my face kissing them silently. Very soon I was going to show her exactly how useless she was to me.

"Oh Christine. You said you didn't remember your dreams, why?"

She played with a button on my shirt for a while.

"I thought you would be angry that I was dreaming of Raoul. That you would not let me explain. And I was ashamed to talk about the things he did to me."

"But you were not ashamed to dream of them, a?"

She slammed her hand down making me jump with surprise. Here we go again. Her voice made me regret my words.

"It was awful, with… with pain and he was saying such things. Holly Mother, I was ashamed to the bottom of my soul. After some time I began to think it was real. The dream."

Now I understood why I found her alone in that room.

"What did the doctor say?"

"I didn't tell him. I couldn't. Nobody knew. Those dreams never ended. It was worse now for he was sleeping in the other room and I was... Raoul was nice and careful with me but every touch was an agony. And I wasn't allowed to recoil from it. I was lucky he had much work to do these days."

I didn't want to listen of Raoul anymore. I gave him a better chance anybody had ever given me, but he had work to do. Idiot. Two idiots for I had let her suffer that long. I had to know better, I had to make her talk.

"Forgive me, dear, if I only knew."

She tightened her embrace and I stopped playing with her hair.

"Can I stay, If I promise not to hurt you again? I can help with..."

I guided her face to look at me. I didn't want to say this twice.

"Christine, I believed you were so miserable here that you were going to die. Literary. I brought you to Raoul to make you happy, my dear. I don't care if you are going to beat me senseless as long as you are happy. I am not sending you anywhere. But I do believe you need a better place to live. Do you not agree, dear child?"

"Only if you are coming with me. But really, Angel, I don't mind to live here. If only I could sleep normally again."

"I can buy you whatever flat you like, I can..."

"Only with you, dear Angel."

Dear Angel? Dear Angel! And she was looking at my mouth, studying my lips. Should I? May I?

…. Two violins and a cello...

Christine's eyes grew heavy and she moved to her side of the bed. A giant yawn stretched her mouth and her eyes closed. She clasped her hands under her chin.

"May I sleep now? I will try to... I will..."

"Sleep, my dear, sleep well."

A serenade for two and a cello. _ ...__Andantino Grazioso... _hm, hm … hm, … hm, hm... beautiful!

xxx

We had two wonderful days full of music and empty of violence. Christine was magnificent, so beautiful so... Christine. Despite my doubts she appeared to enjoy my company, always seeking my hand, touching me with such an ease, it was quite unbelievable. She even asked me to embrace her three times! It was unreal to have so many touches in such a short time. And she wasn't even upset.

After the second dinner I proposed a walk around the opera house. It was ready for the opening night with "Rigoletto". We moved carefully inside the building and I was pleased with her apparently enjoying it. We were climbing up and down the catwalks like two kids in an old forest. She made me feel young with her blazing eyes and playful attitude and I led her higher and higher until there were nowhere up to go.

"Let's go to the dormitories! Angel?"

I decided to take a shortcut and soon we were in front of her old non-privet bedroom. I was watching her closely and didn't miss how her eyes saddened when she saw her bed occupied by another girl. Christine glanced forward and the shy hope in her gaze at the site of another but empty one told me that a letter to the menageries ( not a mistake, no ;) was due.

In the course of several days Christine's sleeping problems began to accelerate once more. It was even worst now, for she was no longer oblivious. She refused to go to bed with me, she was trying to sleep with her hands beneath her body and finally she began to cry again every night. I was talking to her, holding her, convincing her it was not a problem for me but my growing irritation gave me away. I was totally unable to stop her suffering. Again!

One evening I took her to the roof of the opera. I haven't forgotten her way of alternating a night of sleep with another without, so I decided to give it a try. We brought a bottle of brandy to keep us warm and spent the night out. It turned out to be the most pleasant time of my life. We talked and sang quietly, dedicating songs to the moon and some constellations. At first Christine was sitting modestly next to me until she exercised her right of asking for a hug. I lifted an arm to grand her wish, when she gave me a long unreadable look which made me feel stupid and nervous. Without a word she pushed my knees apart and sat between them, leaning back on me and closing my cloak before her. Then she looked up, all the innocence of the world in her eyes.

"Angel? Now you don't have to do it twice."

My heart was very close to exploding and I could only stare hopelessly at her. She moved her eyes down to my lips then up again and licked her own. Her voice was a whisper.

"The hug? A hug with one arm is only a half hug and you have to do it again with the other and then it is not a real hug, but if you have only one arm..."

My whisper came out through clenched teeth.

"Shut up!"

I looked at the stars to move my focus from her. Instead of helping me that little delicious dessert guided my hands around her body and I pressed her firmly to mine. We sat silent until the sunrise promulgated the end of the performance.

xxx

Several days later, Christine was promoted to a permanent position at the ballet corps. She was beyond happy and I myself felt relieved for finally I had managed to do something right. I knew her diurnal presence in my home would be over, but it was a minor sacrifice in exchange to her improved comfort.

On her second day with rehearsals she received a letter from Raoul. She came running and crying but I could see it was not grief which made her tears fall. He was apologizing and humbly asking for permission to see her only so he can apology to her in person. The people who shot at us were servants from his household, acting on their own account. According to his words they had been punished severely and dismissed from their positions. That silly boy! In my world a severe punishment included death at the end. They came that close to hurting Christine, the assholes, and he let them go. It was utterly beyond my capability to comprehend him. He was after all, ready to kill me for much less. Christine was overjoyed with the letter for she cared for the boy. On the other hand I was glad I didn't have to deal anymore with the ex-fiance. Ex-fiance – delightful, such music to my ears.

What can I say? It turned out I was not only exceptionally ugly but remarkably stupid as well. Christine only needed to dance for eight - ten days and her insomnia was no more. It appeared her trained body was lacking exercises. The dreams were gone soon afterwords and we were enjoying each others company in the bed every night. She is smiling at me all the time...

Oh, Christine.

May be I can dream of love again...

May be there is a chance, to turn her warm attitude into something more...

May be I will gather the courage to kiss her, one day...

Now I kiss her with my music, I proclaim my feelings for her without words, and she smiles at me all the time. My beautiful love.

May be.


End file.
